


Out Of Sight

by shadowolfhunter



Category: Justified
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU future. Tim contemplates the past and the future on a rainy day in Lexington.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He never slept past six-thirty. Not since Sniper School and not since two tours, Glynko and his almost five years as a Marshal. Long weekend off, plans made and Tim Gutterson was sitting at his kitchen counter with a coffee staring out at the torrential downpour and actually thinking that Raylan was right. They should get the hell out of Kentucky.

Tim blew on his fresh brew a little to cool it, and took a cautious sip. Looked out at the lousy weather and wished like hell they had.

He had hated his father. In weaker moments, Tim fantasized about making it back from basic with a loaded weapon and putting the bastard out of Tim’s misery before the shit could hurt anyone else.

But never in his life had he imagined his father doing to him what Arlo had done to Raylan. Tim closed his eyes and replayed the moment in his head, like he had a thousand times in the last two years. He should have stepped around Art and stopped the old man. Before it got to that. The punch that had dropped Raylan like a stone.

Footsteps behind him, and Tim half-turned on the stool, Raylan always knew where to find him. It was like a sixth sense.

An arm curled around his waist and a lean body pressed up against him, and Tim wrapped his arms around his lover and held on. Breathing in Raylan’s scent, turning his face up to meet his lover’s kiss, framing that beautiful face with both his hands. Looking up into Raylan’s beautiful eyes.

Tim shuddered. The pain of that memory almost unbearable.

“Hey.” Raylan’s voice was soft. His arms pulled Tim closer, offering comfort, the way it had been from the beginning. “It happened, it wasn’t your fault.”

Tim tightened his grip fiercely, “I know. But knowing don’ amount to a hill of beans. I wish I could have done something, stopped him, is all.”

Two years, and the pain still burned inside. He felt like he had failed Raylan that day at the VFW. He wished he had been too drunk to drive that night. That…

“Y’know what I’m grateful for?” Raylan’s fingers were buried in Tim’s hair, his thumbs stroking gentle circles against Tim’s neck.

“Grateful?” Tim had never heard that before.

“Yeah, grateful.” Raylan’s voice was almost sheepish, and given the trouble that Raylan had with feelings and talking about things, Tim got the sheepish thing.

A moment of quiet, then Raylan continued so quietly that Tim could barely hear the words. “I’m grateful that the last thing I ever saw was you stepping up to try to defend me. Whatever else I lost that day, I saw love.” His voice cracked a little, “never really seen that before.”

Tim reached up then and stole a kiss. “Breakfast?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Raylan hugged his lover, and then headed straight for the coffee pot.

Two years, and Tim’s OCD nature, never moving a single item of furniture, leaving doors all the way open or all the way closed and Raylan never bumped into any of it. That was why they stayed, in their little house by the reservoir. Tim smiled. _No one would ever guess that Raylan was blind. Arlo’s final punch to his son’s head had robbed Raylan of his sight._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim thinks back to the night at the VFW and what went down.

Tim watched Raylan pour himself a coffee. The cowboy made the simple act look so easy, reaching out for his mug, the coffee pot presented no terrors, but it hadn’t always been like that.

Tim took another swallow of his own coffee. Remembering the events of that night was something he preferred not to contemplate on an empty stomach.

_The VFW, Tim had got them in the door. Raylan there to talk to his father at Art’s behest, Tim couldn’t really understand why. From what he knew about Raylan’s father, and what he knew of his own, this seemed like a really bad idea._

_Arlo gave Raylan short shrift, as Tim thought he might, he could feel the anger and disappointment radiating from Raylan but the cowboy was holding on to his temper. They were getting to their feet. Raylan said something, Tim fixed his eyes on Arlo’s face, this cold, evil, triumphant glint in his eye._

_Everything went south so fast, that Tim had barely taken a step towards them, Art’s hand came up to stop him, Arlo’s fist came up and slammed into Raylan’s temple. Raylan went down hard. Tim dived towards his friend._

_Raylan was unconscious, Tim could see the beginnings of a reddening bruise. “Art, we need an ambulance.” Tim loosened Raylan’s collar, took his tie off, tried to make him comfortable while trying to hang on to the cold sick feeling that something had happened here that had changed the game._

_[][][][][][][][]_

_The doctor who examined Raylan broke the news, the blow to Raylan’s head was one too many times. The swelling was pressing on his optic nerves. It was hard to tell if the damage would be permanent or not._

_Raylan had reacted badly, and Tim found himself volunteering to go in there._

_[][][][][][][][]_

_Tim opened the door and walked in. Raylan was sitting on the bed. One leg hanging down over the side, balanced on the edge, hands fisted in the sheets. His eyes bandaged._

_“Ray.”_

_Raylan didn’t even flinch, “what are you doing here?” His snarl less than gracious._

_“Seems I’m the only one who ain’t scared of you.” Tim drawled. “I’m here to help.”_

_“Well, y’can just go right back out again.”_

_“I ain’t doin’ that.” Tim moved closer, the cowboy was practically quivering with rage, “the hell you ain’t.” Raylan lunged, Tim got right up close and hauled Raylan hard up against him. Pulled him in so that Raylan couldn’t get an angle to punch.  
Raylan struggled, but Tim wasn’t letting go, ignoring the string of curse words in his ear, he managed to free a hand to rub Raylan’s back a little, trying to calm him.  
He was still fighting and struggling to break away, then suddenly he relaxed into Tim._

_Tim wasn’t fooled. He held on, because you never leave a man behind. Finally Raylan seemed to fold. He didn’t cry, and lord alone knew getting Raylan to talk about his emotions was like getting blood out of a stone. He just leant into Tim, and Tim held his friend. Made him understand that whatever the outcome when they removed the bandages, Tim would be there for Raylan._

_And that was how it started. At first Raylan would only let Tim help him, it was slow and frustrating for both of them._

_At first it was because Tim wasn’t scared of Raylan’s temper and he was genuinely worried for his friend. So he turned up to all the therapy and lessons Raylan had to adjust to his blindness. He kept the lid on Raylan’s frustrations, he had never meant to get that deeply involved, but when they were done at the hospital he took Raylan home with him._

_He had never really had the chance to find out about the nightmares at the hospital, he’d known Arlo was a bastard, after all the man had just blinded his own son, but hearing Raylan beg in tears in the depths of a nightmare for his father not to hurt his mother nearly broke Tim’s heart._

_Arms-length friendship was not possible after that. Tim went to Raylan, and stayed, laying side by side on Tim’s spare bed, Raylan’s hand wrapped around Tim’s wrist even in sleep._

_In six weeks Raylan trained himself to walk around Tim’s tiny cottage without missing a step._

_They were just settling to a routine, when Winona arrived and things took an interesting turn._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winona arrives to help Raylan... an awkward triangle ensues.

“So… muffins or pancakes.” Tim finished his coffee.

Raylan pretended to consider the choice, even though Tim was ninety percent sure that the cowboy would go with the muffins. He liked doing things for himself, Tim figured that was a hangover from the week Winona spent with them back in the beginning.

“Muffins.” Raylan was already on his feet and heading in the direction of the toaster. Tim grinned, but kept his thoughts to himself. Raylan got a little uptight when he was reminded of Winona’s mildly disastrous attempts to help Raylan cope with his blindness.

_Scratch that, a lot uptight._

_[][][][][][][][]_

_Tim jumped at the loud thud, and the string of muttered curse words. Winona had a right to be there, but this wasn’t wholly successful._

_She arrived, and Raylan was back sleeping in the spare bedroom, with Winona. Tim hoped with all his heart that they could make a go of it._

_It was obvious after half a day that this was not going to be a smooth transition. Winona couldn’t get to grips with the door routine. All the way open, or all the way closed. Leave them ajar and Raylan had a tendency to bang into them._

_Tim desperately wanted to go to Raylan, check he was alright, but it was awkward. Winona had a prior claim. It was painful, she had only been with them for a day and a night, already Raylan seemed to be losing confidence. Tim watched him hesitate, put his hand on the wall to orientate himself, before he would just walk confidently across the room, knowing where all the furniture was._

_Now Winona was making dinner, and she had laid the table. Tim took one look at the settings and could feel a storm brewing. Awkward!_

_He couldn’t believe that he was standing aside like this, it was his house, but Raylan deserved a shot at a second chance with the woman he still loved._

_Raylan was headed for the refrigerator, and Winona intercepted him, “Honey, why don’t you sit down,” Tim watched her take his arm and steer him to the seat she had set next to herself. Tim sighed inwardly in sympathy. He could see the stiffness in Raylan’s posture. The guy didn’t like dependency at all._

_Dinner was worse, even though Raylan had told her that he liked to do things for himself, Winona seemed determined to feed him, and help him drink. Tim sat there determined to give them some space, he could practically feel Raylan’s frustration._

_Three days went by, days where Raylan alternately seemed to reach boiling point, or suffered another drastic knock to his confidence. Then on the fourth, Raylan seemed to make up his mind._

_Tim woke to a sense of someone else being in the room, which normally would have had him scrambling to a defensive position but instinct told him the someone was no threat. The quilt lifted and a long, lean body slid into the bed next to him. The body arranged itself pressed up against Tim, and long lean fingers wrapped themselves firmly around his wrist._

_Confused, Tim was about to suggest that Raylan was in the wrong room, when the cowboy whispered ‘please’ in Tim’s ear._

_There was just a hint of desperation in the word, and Tim nodded. Then lay awake for the rest of the night wondering what the hell it all meant as Raylan curled into him and then just fell asleep as though he belonged there._

_Winona was upset, which Tim thought utterly justifiable, but Raylan met her head on. ”I’m not helpless,” he snapped at her, “I don’t need to be fed like a baby, I hate it when you rush to make coffee because the coffee pot’s too dangerous for me. I can walk around the house without banging into the furniture or the doors if you just leave me to do it.”_

_Winona glanced at Tim. Then back at Raylan. A look of understanding crossed her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I entirely misread a situation,” she glanced over at Tim again, as though seeking confirmation. “I should go.” She was actually blushing, and suddenly it was as though she couldn’t get out of the house quick enough._

_There was an awkward silence while Winona went to pack, and Raylan headed straight for the coffee pot. Tim followed. They didn’t talk about feelings, but this one time, Tim was prepared to make an exception. “What was that all about?”_

_“Nothin’” Raylan looked a little shifty, but Tim wasn’t going to let this one slide. He just didn’t really know how he was going to approach the subject. There was no how to manual on feelings. He could mathematically calculate the angles of a precision shot from a mile away, but the mathematics of the human heart, a complete mystery. Outside of work Tim Gutterson existed and that was about it, and Raylan Givens had majored in emotional unavailability_

_He couldn’t let it go, he could barely articulate what ‘it’ was, just a certainty within himself that there was something more between them than just Tim’s ability to cope with Raylan’s temper._

_“You came to me, remember.” He said softly._

_There was a silence, and Tim thought he’d pushed it too far, that Raylan wasn’t going to answer and he’d just ruined one of the only two real friendships he had._

_Raylan didn’t move, hands carefully going through the motions of putting on the coffee maker._

_Tim was going to walk away, give him the space he obviously craved, when Raylan put out a trembling hand in Tim’s general direction._

_Raylan’s hands never shook. Even when he was scared out of his mind. Tim reached out and took it between both his own, Raylan moved then. Up close, into Tim’s personal space and leaned._

_He had had a few girlfriends over the years, he had never really considered a relationship with a man, and never someone like Raylan. As he wrapped his arms around his blind friend, he realised they fit._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations

_Guiding Raylan around Tim’s tiny cottage, helping him through the nightmares sleeping side by side in the same bed, keeping things in exactly the same place so that he learned to find things by touch alone. Tim had thought it was all part of his army training, with just a touch of OCD, keeping things squared away, prepared for anything. Keeping Raylan safe. What anyone would do for a friend in Raylan’s position._

_Until Winona, and doors left ajar, and loud thuds, and muffled curses, and bruises. Tim reached up to cup Raylan’s cheek gently, thumb stroking beneath the slowly purpling bruise along Raylan’s cheekbone._

_He rested his forehead against Raylan’s, they had gone way too far to back down now. It was Raylan who closed the distance, their lips met, Tim closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, giving it all his attention. They never even heard Winona leave._

[][][][][][][][]

Muffins toasted, coffee poured, Tim got the fruit, jelly and curd cheese out of the refrigerator while Raylan laid the table.

“So, when are we going?”

Tim looked up from his bowl of fruit. “Ray, can you hear that?” the pounding rain on the roof, knowing full well that Raylan’s hearing was almost batlike as his other senses compensated for his loss of sight. “It’s pouring down.”

“So?”

“So, I can’t believe you want to go out and get wet, to do the tour…”

“I like playing tourist, and we get to taste at the end.”

Tim rolled his eyes. He didn’t mind taking Raylan out to places, especially where he could experience things up close and personal. The horse farms had unexpectedly worked out well, even though Raylan wasn’t all that keen on horses to start with. Tim was certain they had visited every bourbon distillery within a hundred mile radius at least twice, but the micro-brewery was a new one.

“We do.” Tim sighed, and knew he was going to give in, especially as he was about to approach a touchy subject.

“Helen wants to see you.”

Raylan stopped adding a thick layer of blueberry jelly over the cream cheese on his muffin. “Hmmm.” Tim could see the stiffness in his back.

“I said that I would take you to her place.” Tim said quietly. This was the bone of contention, Helen had tried to broker a peace between Arlo and Raylan.

“Will he be there?”

“Helen says that he won’t, and she won’t try that again.”

Raylan finished with the jelly, and bit into his creation, neatly avoiding anything that sounded like an answer.

Helen loved Raylan, Tim knew that, but sometimes she went about that love in a very strange way. How she imagined that Raylan would ever make nice with Arlo after the VFW was a complete mystery to Tim.

Tim Gutterson had a lot of kills under his belt, but he had never rejoiced in taking life, it was simply a tragic necessity sometimes. He would happily have made an exception in Arlo Givens’ case. The man was pure evil. He had rejoiced in blinding Raylan.

Tim did not want to pretend to understand that, nor an aunt who thought it was even possible to make peace between father and son, after what the father had done. 

Naturally, it had ended in a shouting match, and a furious Raylan felling the old man effortlessly. Being blind had not affected his ability to punch.

Holding a shivering, distressed and angry Raylan in his arms all night while trying to get the cowboy to calm down, Tim had vowed that he would never let Helen spring something like that again.

For a long time after Helen’s failed peace negotiations, Raylan had refused to go anywhere near Harlan and Tim was more than happy to oblige him.

Raylan took another big bite of muffin, “she can come here.” He said through a mouthful of cheese and jelly, licking his fingers. Knowing full well that Arlo wouldn’t come anywhere near their house.

Tim really didn’t like Harlan intruding into their home, but he preferred that to the other option.

Though surprisingly, not all of Harlan had proved to be a threat.

_Tim would have bet anything that Boyd Crowder would be around to crow over Raylan, like he had about Arlo._

_Boyd had shown up while Raylan was in the hospital. It was late, and Raylan had had a bad day, so Tim was still with him. The lighting was dim although the curtains weren’t closed. Raylan could sense if the curtains were closed and somehow he didn’t like it. Tim wasn’t about to argue about it._

_They were sitting on Raylan’s bed, Tim holding Raylan’s hand, trying to soothe the cowboy, whose stress levels were through the roof.  
“Raylan.”_

_They turned towards the voice. Boyd Crowder stood in the doorway._

_Tim was about to leap to Raylan’s protection. Back then Raylan’s eyes were still bandaged in the hope that a long rest would at least partially restore his sight._

_Boyd held up his hand. “I don’t mean Raylan any harm.”_

_Tim Gutterson did not trust Boyd Crowder one bloody inch, but the criminal kingpin’s face held only genuine sorrow for Raylan’s plight. He let Boyd move closer._

_It was surreal the way Raylan’s former coal-mining buddy wrapped his arms around the cowboy with such tender care, Tim could have wept. Raylan’s grip no less fierce._

_Whatever they were to each other elsewhere, that night Boyd treated Raylan with a gentleness that Tim had not suspected he was capable of. When Boyd left, near dawn, Raylan was sleeping peacefully. Tim knew that all bets were likely to be off now that Boyd had been to see Raylan, but he hoped that the hostilities between Boyd and Raylan were at an end, permanently._

“So… are we going?” Tim watched Raylan balance some slices of fresh strawberry on top of the other cheese-covered muffin, and bite into it. 

“It’s like living with an eighth-grader.” Tim sighed and shook his head, the rain was coming down even worse than it had been half an hour ago. “Okay, yes, we are.”

Raylan grinned, and stuffed the rest of the muffin in his mouth. “Good.” He said around a mouthful of muffin. 

“We ain’t goin’ swimming.” Tim said, just to keep the illusion of control over the outing, despite knowing full well he would give in if Raylan really wanted him to.

“’kay,” said Raylan, licking his fingers, before getting to his feet and stowing his dirty dishes next to the sink. “I’ll wash, you wipe.” 

Tim quickly shoveled the last of his fruit into his mouth and added his dishes to Raylan’s. The cowboy had come so far in two years, he could take care of himself in all the essentials, and Tim was proud of him, and proud that Raylan had let him be a part of Raylan’s rehabilitation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Raylan go to Art's place.

Art watched from the window as Tim’s SUV pulled up outside his place. It was supposed to be barbecue evening, but the rain was still lashing down, and Art Mullen drew a line at barbecue in the rain.

So he watched as Tim scurried out of the driver’s seat, Raylan’s door already open; Art watched his blind former deputy slip his hand into the crook of Tim’s elbow, and a lump came to his throat. When Raylan lost his sight, Tim stepped up when no one else either could, or would.

Two years they had been together, it had been a bumpy road to say the least. Raylan had been devastated and terrified when he woke up to darkness, but Tim had been there every step of the way. Supported Raylan through the rages, the intense silences when the cowboy went deep inside and no one else could reach him, coaxed him out of the depressions. Art figured that they needed each other. Tim derived as much from their relationship as Raylan did.

Art went to open the door, before he could wax more sentimental about his deputies, because if he did it would be hard to do what he had to do, send Tim out on assignments. And it wasn’t as though Tim would thank him for it either.

It wasn’t lost on Art, the affectionate way that Tim leaned in to the cowboy, nor the sweet smile on Raylan’s face. The smile that Raylan only had for those he truly loved.

In the two years since Raylan’s career as a marshal ended, he had become something of a mascot for the team. Such a small office, Raylan’s tragic injury had affected them all, for a while there Art had been concerned that the whole office from marshals to support staff would fall apart. It wasn’t as though one of them had been gunned down in the line of duty, it was a senseless, meaningless tragedy which was all about cruelty and violence. And, not even one that the AUSA could prosecute in any meaningful way.

Art had dreaded telling a devastated Raylan that his old man would only serve a few months for what the old bastard had done. It had done nothing for Art or AUSA Vasquez’ feelings when Raylan appeared to just accept it with a shrug of his shoulders.

Now he watched Raylan with his former comrades, the gentle affection that they all bestowed on him, and realized that Raylan benefitted from the spontaneous outpouring of caring that his teammates gave him. Before being robbed of his sight, Raylan really didn’t know or understand positive attention or what to do about it.

Tim gently guided his blind lover to the couch. It was time to eat.

While Tim was loading up two plates with food, Rachel Brooks slid onto the couch next to Raylan.

“Ray.” She leaned across and kissed him on the cheek.  
He leaned into her a little, and put out his hand, Rachel wrapped both of hers around his, rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. She had been horrified when Raylan was injured, and she and Tim had been there when he woke up, witness to his panic and distress, then his angry attempts to shove them all away from him.

Only Tim had had the guts to walk back in there.

It took time, but slowly the relationship that Tim and Rachel had begun to forge with Raylan at work, began to evolve as Raylan struggled with his blindness. It made her so happy when they had found strength in each other. Watching Tim and Raylan fall in love was something that gave Rachel some hope.

Raylan entwined his fingers with Rachel’s, he could feel there was something more to the way she was holding on to his hand. “What’s up?” he said quietly. “Joe?”

It was less a question than a statement, and Rachel sighed, Raylan tugged her hand a little then, until she leant against him, head resting on his shoulder.

Two years ago, Rachel would never have dreamed about telling Raylan her problem. Theirs was not that kind of relationship. Now, was different. Raylan had gone through his own rings of fire, and somehow come out the other side. He was still the cocky cowboy that had turned the East Kentucky office inside out within hours of his arrival, but he let the kind, gentle, intuitive side of himself out more these days.

It was in LA that Rachel had seen sides to Raylan that she hadn’t known existed. Up until then all any of them had really seen was the tough as nails, stubborn marshal who could outdraw everyone.

They were chasing Rolly Pike. Rachel was an experienced intelligent marshal, with a few years under her belt. It wasn’t that she was failing, or that Raylan was undermining her, it was simply that his natural instinct for the chase was so much more advanced than hers.

There was the bizarre moment when they encountered the feisty old sailor, and Raylan protected her, she wasn’t even sure what he did, and it was weird but she felt protected. Then came the Mexicans, and the way he had sat down and politely and considerately coaxed the true story out of the elderly grandfather.

In some ways that flash of intuition and subtlety only served to remind her just how annoying Raylan could be. He was a talented, experienced marshal with a real gift for people, but put him back in Kentucky and everything went to hell fast.

Then six weeks later, a senseless piece of brutality and violence from his own father and Raylan’s life changed forever.

Rachel went with Art to pick the old man up. She had never understood Raylan’s brand of nineteenth century justice, until the unrepentant fiend was standing there in front of her, crowing about blinding his own son.

Rachel wanted nothing more than to pull her Glock and let the old bastard have it right between the eyes. Only Art’s drawn, sorrowful face stopped her. Her Chief was struggling, horrified that he had set in motion events that had ended so devastatingly for one of his deputies, and angry as hell that no one had really bothered to look more closely at the dangers of putting Raylan back in his home town. Anger directed at himself as much as Dan Grant and the brass who made decisions.

“Hey.”

Raylan’s voice was a whisper in her ear, and Rachel sighed and cuddled a little closer.

“Where did you go to?”

She really didn’t want to go there. They tried never to talk about the events immediately after Raylan’s tragedy.

“Just thinking.” She said. And his hand tightened gently on hers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan meets his new partner, Otis.

Tim heaved the three-inch thick file onto his desk and sighed. This was nuts. Raylan had only been gone since Friday night and Tim was missing him like crazy.

As if this whole thing wasn’t his fault… well, Rachel and Art had to bear some of the blame too.

Raylan was just too damn independent, and patience was not in his vocabulary. Even being blind had not stopped him, he was still fit and athletic, and more than happy to give anything a go. Tim shuddered at the thought… the batting cage was probably the scariest idea that Raylan had dreamt up. Tim had thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown when Raylan had excitedly announced that he had set it up for the Tuesday night.

Raylan was always fearless, which might have stood him in good stead as a marshal, but as a blind man the fearless, independent streak frankly terrified Tim.

But the grin on Raylan’s face in the batting cage, they had set the ball machine to fairly slow, and damn even if he missed four or five for every one he actually connected with, the sound the machine made as it ejected the ball gave Raylan direction, and the rest was just instinct and experience… well Tim couldn’t take that away from him even if the balls flying at his blinded partner’s head did freak him out.

It was the batting cage, and Raylan’s happy face, that gave Rachel the idea. The next time they were clustered around the barbecue and Lesley had distracted Raylan’s attention, she casually dropped her idea into the conversation. Art was instantly enthusiastic… but Tim figured that was because he didn’t live with Raylan and even though long experience had taught him that Raylan could get into serious trouble without outside assistance, Art Mullen had clearly forgotten that side of Raylan’s nature.

“A guide dog?” Tim’s eyebrows rose.

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, “yes, Tim… A guide dog. It will be good for Raylan, and safer.” Tim had to concede that point, Raylan’s idea of safety was to book a taxi to go into town, and wander around at random, always ending up at the same coffee shop, sometimes by asking complete strangers to steer him in the right direction… at least the staff knew him, and Tim… and they would feed him good coffee, and donuts and keep an eye on him until Tim could retrieve his errant partner and take him home.

Tim had considered ringing every taxi company in a fifty-mile radius and warning them on pain of something very nasty not to accept Raylan’s fare. But that did seem a little like overkill. The look on Rachel’s face, and the accompanying eye-roll, suggested that Tim was in need of a good anti-psychotic!

Despite his misgivings, when he had a few minutes to process it, Tim agreed. A living creature to help Raylan that would have no agenda and would keep him safe, it would make Raylan’s life better. So he researched it, wrote off to the Guide Dog Training School… no sense in getting Raylan excited until it was a certainty, and Raylan received his acceptance letter and booking within six weeks. The phone interview Raylan was at his most charming, and Tim could tell this was going to be one time things would run smoothly. Even if Raylan was changing planes in the middle.

“Are you going to stop worrying any time soon?”

Tim looked up, Rachel had the world’s most mobile and expressive eyebrows, and they were saying idiot in an affectionate sort of way.

“He flew to LA. On his own.”

“And how many times did you call him on Friday.”

Tim blushed. “Eight.”

“And the transfer desk at Houston.”

“Four.” Tim sunk lower in his seat.

Rachel smiled gently, “Y’think that Raylan can’t flirt his way across the country.”

“No.” Tim had no doubts on that score. “I just… he…”

“Raylan will be fine. Most of his confidence comes from you, and he still has that mystique which makes people fall at his feet and want to give him things. AND… we know he got there.”

Tim nodded, and Rachel could see he had a lot to think about, so she left him to it.

[][][][][][][][]

Raylan put his hands out, and a big square head butted into his fingers. The dog’s coat was soft and velvety. “Mr Givens.”

“Raylan, please.” He couldn’t even bring himself to think about being Mr Givens. That was his father.

Something damp and soft caressed his hand. “Raylan, this is Otis. He’s a chocolate Labrador.” The big wet tongue stroked his hands again, and the nose thrust upwards putting the dog’s whole head in Raylan’s hands. He felt the big body shift closer until a solid warmth settled itself against Raylan’s leg.

Cally the guide dog trainer moved back a little, watching the cowboy bend over the dog and start running his hands over Otis’ body, before long the dog was leaning heavily sideways against his leg as Raylan’s fingers found a particularly pleasurable spot.

Cally handed Raylan a brush, and then settled as the cowboy got to know his dog. Otis leaned against his new master, brown eyes closed to mere slits, thick, chocolate-furred tail thumping against the ground in delight at the attention. Raylan put a hand on Otis’ chest, gently stroking the soft, wavy fur, his fingers combing through the silky soft white fur of the diamond-shaped flash on the labrador’s front.

She was slightly surprised, Cally had to admit that she didn’t know what to expect from a former Deputy US Marshal, and Raylan Givens wasn’t what she was expecting. When they were introduced, she got the full blast of the courtly southern charm, with his warm voice and Southern accent Cally suspected him of being a ladiesman. But his partner’s name was Tim, and the way he spoke about his partner, well she could hear the love in his tone. Now she was watching him bond with his dog, and it was clear that Otis was bonding with his new master.

She could sense the strong will, so maybe Otis would behave himself. Two strong-willed creatures together, Cally did wonder if they would be scrubbing Otis out of the program and giving him away as a nice family pet; but something in Raylan’s application, and the conversation that she had had with his clearly anxious partner suggested that Otis was the right dog for Raylan.

Cally grinned, this was a serious business, but when Tim explained the reason for his call, and she had prodded him a little, it all came tumbling out. How the moment someone taught Raylan how to use the cane and orientate himself, the cowboy was out there testing the limits of his new found knowledge, she commiserated with Tim over the nerve-wracking moments when Raylan was wandering about on his own in Lexington, and had to admit a sneaking admiration for Raylan’s batting cage antics.

Otis’ tail was still thumping the floor, and he was still leaning sideways against Raylan’s leg.

_This is going to be fun..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction, some of the details of Guide Dog Training and Otis in particular have been altered a little for their comic effect.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim joins Raylan at Guide Dog School and meets Otis.

_Two weeks_ , Tim heaved his small bag onto the desk in front of him and checked his weapon, showing his badge to the Homeland Security on the desk, he was waved through and headed straight to the nearest lounge and coffee.

He was tired, coming off back to back shifts so that he could fly out to LA and be with Raylan when he ‘graduated’ from Guide Dog Training School. It wasn’t that Art was being mean-spirited about it, on the contrary, both Art and Rachel were buzzed to meet Raylan’s new dog, it’s just they were short with a couple of annual leaves and Tim covering for Nelson who had taken a round to the shoulder three weeks before.

Truly Tim had missed Raylan. More than he had thought possible. Quite what that meant in terms of their lives, well Tim had several hours of flight time and a transfer in Houston to contemplate the matter.

They were friends, occasional lovers, they slept in the same bed together, Tim was still trying to work out exactly what that meant emotionally. Raylan would lie there next to him, his hand around Tim’s wrist. It grounded Tim, the nightmares were less savage and less frequent, and Tim knew that it made Raylan feel secure, that he was not alone, but what it actually meant? Tim was still trying to figure that out.

[][][][][][][][]

Raylan grasped Otis’ jaw firmly, unsuccessfully avoiding the enthusiastic swipes from the huge tongue, “cut that out,” he gently lifted Otis’ top lip and ran a finger along the gum line. Otis’ tail beat an excited crescendo as Raylan failed to find any tartar, and reached into the packet of chews.

The Labrador inched closer, salivating, as Raylan extracted a chew. “Nicely.” Raylan tried to put a stern warning tone in his voice, Otis loved food, all kinds of food, including things that weren’t food at all. His snatch could take fingers. Their second walking session, Raylan had been puzzled by the slight deviation in their route, felt Otis’ head bend down, then the ecstatic sounds of crunching, and some horrified noises from Cally who was walking with them.

“What?” Raylan tried to figure it out.

“A snail.” Cally said. “He ate a snail.”

After calming Cally down, Raylan tried to reason with her that Otis just liked to eat things. The snail, the child’s spat out sweet, the abandoned box of Chinese take out. Everything was grist to Otis’ mill. Cally still wanted to scrub Otis out of the program, but Raylan couldn’t bear to even hear that.

Somehow, they had made it. Tim was going to be with them in about an hour and Raylan was putting the final spit and polish on his dog. He handed off the chew carefully, and Otis took it gently out of his hand.

It was crunch time, and Raylan wanted Tim to love Otis.

[][][][][][][][]

“Mr Gutterson, I thought it was important for us to meet before you see Mr Givens…”

“Tim, please, and I really would call Raylan by his first name. Being called Mr Givens upsets him.”

Cally folded her hands, a bit primly Tim noted. “There have been some issues.”

“This is Raylan, issues are normal.” He shifted in his seat and tried not to roll his eyes.

“The issues have not been with Raylan, although I must say the altercation earlier this week…”

“Raylan losing his sight didn’t really switch the other instincts off, I’m afraid.” Tim sighed a little. “He still knows how to fight.”

“He does indeed!” She was looking particularly po-faced, and Tim wondered why. She was roughly his own age, but seemed very young to him. He had heard about the fight from the local leos who had been duly impressed with Raylan’s skills, not that it was much of a fight. The drunk had tried to come on to Cally, and grabbed her arm, Raylan and Otis had come to her rescue.

Cally watched her tutee’s partner carefully. The slightly too impassive stare, and the almost glib answers were a cover, but she was guessing the laconic attitude had a point. The fight issue more than anything else had given her the clue, was less than a fight, more Raylan dropping an unpleasant drunk that had threatened her on his ass. Cally had seen a few brawls in her lifetime, but she had never seen a blind man take out a drunk who had to be thirty pounds heavier.

She cleared her throat. “The problem is with Raylan’s dog. Raylan manages him beautifully, but there is a concern that Otis’ quirks might prove a risk to Raylan. We tried to change dogs, but Raylan refused. Said that it was Otis or no dog.”

Tim tried unsuccessfully to conceal the grin on his face. That was Raylan all over. He had no doubt that Raylan had got attached from the first moment he met Otis.

“So, you want to monitor the situation.”

“Yes.”

Tim was actually waiting for the punch line. Knowing Raylan as he did, Raylan was not going to give up on Otis.

[][][][][][][][]

He watched Raylan walking towards him, his step as confident as ever, but with something a little extra. The huge chocolate Labrador walking by his side being a big part of the something extra was Tim’s guess.

The expression on Otis’ face could only be described as smug. Tim watched the offhand saunter, and the swing of the thick chocolate tail, and figured that somehow they were born for each other.

“Tim.” Something in Raylan’s tone, excitement, perhaps pride, and a warmth when the cowboy said Tim’s name almost made the sniper tear up. He stepped forward as Raylan’s free hand curved around Tim’s wrist. The touch confirmed Tim’s feelings, and he was about to say what he felt even as a nose prodded his crotch.

Tim looked down, the Labrador smiled up, serenely. “Really dog?” Said Tim. 

“Tim, this is Otis.” There was no mistaking the pride this time.

“Hallo Otis.” Tim slid an arm around Raylan’s waist and pulled him close, ignoring the dog’s attempts to shove his nose between their thighs. 

Raylan leaned into his partner. “I’ve missed you.”

There was nothing Tim could really say to that, so he just leaned in and they hugged, moment of truth between them, and Tim didn’t need words or some grand gesture, he could feel the love flowing between them.

He felt the nudge on his knee again. Tim looked down, and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry dog. He’s mine.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's well in paradise...

Tim stood on the porch with his coffee and watched Otis casually saunter to the end of the porch. The Labrador stopped for a sniff, and then Tim heard the sounds of happy crunching as another snail met its doom in Otis’ jaws.

Otis sauntered back. Chocolate tail swinging, smug look on his face.

“Happy now.” Said Tim. Otis paused, looked up and belched. Tim gave him the look. “Bags of best quality kibble, cooked chicken breast, cheese, enough rawhide chews to fill a wheelbarrow… and you eat snails.” 

Otis’ bottom hit the deck with a dullish thud and his tail began to thump. Muffled sounds of a shower gave Tim an idea.

Tim grinned. “Where’s Ray?” The tail thumping increased. “Go find him… where’s Ray?” He knew he really shouldn’t get the dog geed up like that but it was damn funny. Otis was coiled like a spring.

“Go…”

The Labrador exploded from his crouched position, claws skidding on the shiny floor surface, Otis’ bulky frame heavy enough to keep him upright and moving. The loud thud as the lab burst through the bathroom door, his weight more than enough to pop the flimsy latch, Raylan’s loud squawk of annoyance. “TIMOTHY!!”

Tim smirked, that one was never going to get old.

Moments later, the padding of feet, canine and human. Tim walked back into the house. Raylan may have known every square inch of his home, but Otis was still there, pressed against his master, guiding him. His soaking wet coat making a damp patch on Raylan’s jeans.

Raylan walked forward, half-turned and dropped into the armchair nearest the door. “Do you have to?” He grouched.

Tim opened his mouth to say something, and jumped back with a squawk as Otis shed the water from his thick coat in the time-honoured fashion of all dogs.

Spray flew, and Raylan scowled. “Thanks dog.” Otis sat with a thud, and inched forward until his nose was resting on Raylan’s knees. Tim smiled. Raylan’s hands went straight to his dog’s head, and the long fingers rubbed Otis’ ears. The labrador’s face had an expression that was pure bliss.

It was hard to be cross with him with that blissed out look on his face.

Tim sighed. He had work to do, and Art would not be happy if he was late. “I need to get on my way.” He leaned down, and kissed Raylan gently. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

“I don’t attract trouble.”

“Sure.”

“Why you messin’ with me?”

“Because I can. Because it’s fun.”

Raylan smiled, he could hear the affection in Tim’s voice. Sometimes it startled him how much he was loved. He had never really thought about it before. 

Tim’s hand gently caressed his face. “Chicken tonight?”

“Yeah.” Raylan leaned forward, Tim’s lips met his again. 

***JUSTIFIED***

Raylan washed up the breakfast plates, and went through his routine, getting dressed, putting his money in his wallet, finding his keys. He could hear Otis munching on one of the many rawhide chews that Tim had bought.

So absorbed was he in his tasks, that he almost failed to notice the change.

Otis stopped chewing.

He was growling, Raylan sensed a presence behind him. Sensed the movement and ducked to the side, the blow connecting with his shoulder. Otis was snarling, and there was a high pitched yelp as Otis went for Raylan’s attacker.

“Shoot the damn dog.”

“Cain’t get a clear shot.”

Raylan got in a blow of his own. “OTIS, FIND TIM.” He screamed as a fist slammed into his body, there were two of them and Raylan was struggling to fight back.

As he went down, he heard the sound of glass breaking, and shots fired. “Otis.” Raylan crumpled to the ground, his last thought as he lost consciousness, a prayer that his dog had got clear.

***JUSTIFIED***

Otis was running. Torn between instinct and fear, instinct said stay with master, fear said run. Master wanted him to find Master’s mate.

Jumping through the shiny thing hurt, his paws were leaking, but Otis ran on.

***JUSTIFIED***

Judge Steven Reardon was on his way into the office, cursing the detour from the road repair, he was about to ring in to the courthouse and cancel half his list, when the huge brown dog ran out.

Reardon swerved. And cursed again.

The dog had ground to a halt in front of the car. Reardon squinted, the dog’s nose, and front legs were covered with cuts. With horror, Reardon recognized Raylan Givens’ guide dog.

He scrambled out of the car, wracking his brains for the dog’s name.

It came to him as he reached the trembling animal. “Otis.” He laid a gentle hand on the dog’s head, the Labrador looked up at him. “Where’s master?” This did not look good, and given Raylan’s propensity for trouble, Reardon scrabbled in his pocket for his phone.

***JUSTIFIED***

Rachel slowly unclenched her fingers from the passenger seat, and fervently wished that she had insisted she drive. Art was only moments behind them she knew, the Staties were there…

Tim had bailed out the door almost before he put the vehicle in park. Useless to call out to him. She watched him take the porch stairs in a single leap and crash through his front door.

She followed more slowly, taking her time to see the signs. Busted out front window, Otis probably, she could see bullet holes, someone firing at Otis? Maybe. She stepped up on the porch, and pushed the door open a little wider, careful to use the edge of the large pocket handkerchief in her hand. Although she had no doubt her prints were somewhere in the house. Lord knew she spent enough time with Tim and Raylan.

Tim was standing there, frozen in place, staring down at a patch of something on the floor.

Blood.

Rachel put it together in her head, not Otis, he got all cut up jumping through the window, all his blood would be on the outside.

Raylan’s.

She reached out, put a firm hand on Tim’s shoulder. She had to get him away from here. “Otis. You need to get him from the vet’s.”

Tim nodded, slowly. He turned, and Rachel nearly gasped at the hard look in his eyes. Tim never looked like that, cold, edged with an icy resolve that made her knees tremble.

“Arlo.”

Tim walked past her then, the epitome of calm, and suddenly Rachel realised that she needed to get a lid on this thing real quick. So used to Raylan being the volatile one, she hadn’t really thought about what Tim might do if Raylan were taken from him.

Tim’s protective instincts would come out, that was for sure, but the depth of the love she knew he had for his partner, well that was just messing with his head.

Rachel went after him. “We need to go to Otis.” He nodded, “I’ll drive,” she snatched the keys from his hand, before he had time to even protest she wriggled past him and into the driver’s seat.

Art was pulling up beside them, and she rolled the window down. “We’re going to get Otis.” She shouted, and peeled back, barely giving Tim time to shut the passenger door. Leaving Art standing there, looking a little lost and bewildered.

***JUSTIFIED***

He was lying on a floor, he knew that, he could feel the draught from an ill-fitting door. He ached everywhere, especially his head, and they had tied his hands behind him with something.

Raylan struggled, twisting his wrists, fighting the thing that was holding his hands behind his back. He could feel the thing cutting into his wrists, and it hurt like hell, but he kept fighting, even though he could feel the blood soaking his wrists.

They’d shot his dog. He stilled at the thought. Otis… Tim… The pain of these thoughts so overwhelming that he retched, bile rising in his throat.

Arlo Givens sat back on the chair and watched. Watched his blind son fight the zip ties they had put around his wrists. Watched him struggle, and curse. Then Raylan retched once, then nothing. He went still.

Arlo was surprised. He expected more fight. His perpetually angry son fought and that made Arlo feel good. He liked to rile him, get under his skin.

Raylan giving up like that was a disappointment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel tries to keep the lid on everything as the race is on to find Raylan. Boyd Crowder has an unwelcome surprise, and Wynn Duffy does something unexpected.

It was no real surprise to Rachel that Raylan’s vet was a tough old country vet with a practice that mostly encompassed farm animals, her nostrils detected goat, and maybe sheep but the photographs on the walls were mainly horses, with a few cattle scattered amongst them.

Otis was fine, according to the man in front of her, some cuts from his jump through the window, but remarkably unscathed from the ordeal. Rachel tried very hard not to look down at the scene at her feet. Fine was not how she would characterize the current position.

Tim was sitting on the floor. Otis sat as close to Tim as physically possible, leaning into the sniper, Tim’s arms wrapped around the dog’s body, Otis had buried his nose into the crook of Tim’s elbow.

There was a tiny little whining noise. Rachel wasn’t even certain which one had made it.

She should have realized that Tim’s hard ass, laid back routine was more of an act than she had pegged it. Tim’s PTSD issues and drinking were a barrier. But what the hell happened when the barrier was torn away?

She was finding that out. She didn’t like it, but there it was, and she had to do something before Tim’s issues rose up again and just maybe he would take a shot that would get him into a hell of a lot of trouble.

Someone needed to get to Arlo Givens first. When Tim rebuilt the barrier he was going to go for Arlo, and since she doubted she had even the slightest chance of stopping him, she had to protect him from that.

She dialed Art’s number. Tried not to feel that moment of satisfaction that was curling around her heart. Arlo Givens was about to feel the long arm of the law. This was karma.

***JUSTIFIED***

Boyd Crowder looked down at the man at his feet, somewhere far away in the back of his mind alarm bells were clanging, but the sheer dumbass stupidity of what had been done had wrapped his brain in cotton wool.

“Why have you blindfolded him?”

Jimmy was practically hopping from foot to foot in glee. Boyd shot a look at Arlo and realized that whatever he had thought and felt at the time, taking on Arlo was a mistake.

With this, it could even be a fatal one.

He sank to his knees and carefully lifted Raylan, undoing the knot holding the blindfold on he pulled it free. Raylan’s eyes opened, and for a heart stopping second he thought his old friend was looking at him.

He tried not to think about the pain in his heart when he realized that Raylan’s eyeline was off and there was no apparent pupil reaction. Tried not to think about feelings at all, because this was a very, very dangerous moment and Boyd needed his wits about him.

Raylan slumped against him, and Boyd struggled with what to do for the best.

Footsteps came towards them and stopped, Wynn Duffy reached down and cut the ties holding Raylan’s wrists.

“I had higher expectations.”

Duffy’s voice was soft, almost weary and Boyd knew he was standing on the edge of a precipice. Duffy was not the most balanced man, and doing business with the Dixie Mafia kingpin was risky. But Boyd wanted in, and that was the price.

“I…”

“Mr Crowder, I am aware that you were unaware of these events,” the distaste in Duffy’s tone was palpable, and Jimmy’s beaming smile disappeared, he stopped fidgeting, which was good, because Boyd was uncertain how long Jimmy was going to continue breathing. “However,” Duffy continued, “this presents us with a problem. Having kidnapped a former Federal officer, we now have the unenviable task of a choice. Either we kill him, or we find a way to return him to his people.”

Arlo stepped forward, “We…”

“Mr Givens, since you and your associate have been so unwise to bring this down upon our heads, you no longer get a vote. Mike…”

Duffy’s henchman stepped forward, scooped up Raylan from Boyd’s arms, “put him in the Winnebago. We’ll take him to hospital.”

“Killing a Federal Marshal is a very stupid move, especially this one. He has friends, and his partner,” Boyd didn’t even want to wonder about how Duffy might know the depth of Raylan’s relationship with Tim Gutterson, “you’ve kicked the hornets’ nest on this.

Boyd got to his feet, turned, Duffy stepped in. “Get your people under control.” The ice in his eyes surprised Boyd, but the pragmatism didn’t.

He nodded, didn’t trust his voice to speak. Just listened to the footsteps fading away as Duffy walked out. He needed a moment of silence. Or he might just decorate the walls with Jimmy’s entrails.

***JUSTIFIED***

He was moving, he could tell that, but he was too sick and tired to work out why. A hand rested against his forehead for a moment, an arm slid around his shoulders, and he was gently lifted into a sitting position. “Drink.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but all Raylan cared about right then was the glass of water that was being held to his lips. 

“Otis… Tim…” he muttered as he was laid back down.

“Take it easy.” The hand was back against his forehead, “how much longer?”

“Ten minutes. Maybe.” There was a second voice, further away and Raylan struggled to work out where he was.

“Lie back, Marshal Givens. You’ve taken quite a beating.” The voice was hard, but Raylan sensed that somehow the man meant him no harm.

He ached all over, memories all jumbled up. Otis, and gunfire… his dog dying. He moaned in distress, and tried to sit up, the effort was too much and he passed out. “Otis…”

***JUSTIFIED***

“His name is Raylan Givens, he was a deputy marshal with the Lexington office.” Wynn Duffy gave the desk all the information he could think of, inwardly cursing their slowness. He knew they had phoned the marshals’ office, he wanted to be out of there before Raylan’s partner and the rest of the marshals showed up.

He was expecting the worst, but he still jumped at the sound of running feet behind him. Tim Gutterson almost slammed into the desk. He had a dog on a lead, trailing a harness that Duffy assumed was a guide dog’s standard gear. Gutterson was waving his badge, “Raylan Givens.” He barked at the nurse, “where is he?”

“Sir…” The nurse was on her feet. “That animal can’t be in here.”

Tim wasn’t having any of it. “My partner is blind.” He snapped. It didn’t take a psychologist to pick up on the stress in his voice, “some asshole just tried to kill his dog, Raylan’s going to want to feel that Otis is alive.” If his voice cracked on the last few words, Duffy wasn’t going to blame him.

As matters degenerated into a shouting match, and Rachel caught up with her errant partner, Duffy made good his escape in the confusion.

***JUSTIFIED***

Rachel settled herself into a chair next to Raylan’s bed. After this one Tim and Raylan owed her big time.  
She had arrived at the front desk in time to prevent most of Tim’s meltdown, managed to get Tim and Otis a pass into Raylan’s room, and then run interference until everyone was satisfied.

She moved again, why hospitals insisted on the god-awful plastic chairs she had no idea.

Her lips quirked up in a smile, _not as though there was any room on the bed_.

Tim was half on and half off, slumped over, Raylan leaning into his partner, fingers entwined with Tim’s, his free hand in the thick ruff of fur around Otis’ neck, the dog squashed between them.

Raylan was bruised and battered, and running a low-grade fever from a slight case of exposure. Tim was holding on to Raylan as though he expected his partner to be snatched away again. Rachel suspected that it wasn’t going to be possible to pry them apart with a crowbar.

They were both messed up by what happened, but had defaulted to their usual positions.

The marshals had rallied round. Nelson was arranging for the window to be replaced, and the locks changed.

Rachel would keep watch, until Raylan was ready to go home. Then they would figure it out together.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are messed up.

“How’s Raylan?” Rachel looked over the partition at her sometime partner. Just lately things seemed off with Tim and she was concerned. After the incident, she had thought that things would settle down and go back to the way they were, but something had changed.

“Raylan’s gone.”

“What?” Rachel stared at Tim, who refused to meet her eyes. “Tim?”

“He got a place in Lexington, close to everything. It’s better that way.”

She knew that they had been having some issues, but this. “So, nearly three years together and he just moves out.”

Tim’s head snapped up at her tone, and the guard dropped for a second. Rachel had never seen Tim look like that, like his whole world had collapsed in on it’s self.

“Yeah. Just like that.” The tone was off, but the guard was back up.

But Rachel had the key to the map now. She gave him a long hard stare, which Tim countered with one of his trademark bored looks. As if she was about to believe that any more. She nodded. Tim’s eyes dropped back to his paperwork. She could see the tension in his body.

It was all busted up, and Tim couldn’t bear to even think about it now. He’d driven Raylan away and wrecked their relationship, and that was that. He hunched a shoulder and turned his gaze back to the paperwork.

Rachel coolly checked her watch, she had an hour for lunch, finding Raylan’s new address would be relatively easy. She was not just going to leave this. Three years together, the happiest she had ever seen either of them, despite Raylan’s new reality, after what happened, she couldn’t just leave it alone.

[][][][][][][][]

The doorbell rang, and Raylan moved forward. “OW.” He snapped irritably as he stubbed his toe for the fourth time against the sofa. Two weeks and he still couldn’t remember where the sofa was.

Two miserable weeks, reaching out in his sleep for that familiar touch, and finding nothing. Two weeks of Otis pressing against him, the enthusiastic thumping of Otis’ tail a subdued half speed metronome these days. The nudging of Otis’ nose when they were alone together.

Raylan stiffened his spine. Dammit. He wasn’t a child or stupid, he could do this. And do it without all the fuss and the hovering and…

“Yes.” He snapped, yanking the door open.

“Raylan.” Rachel took in the cowboy’s disheveled state, answering the door in jeans, no shirt or boots. “You moved out,” she said in wonder.

“Rachel.” He looked angry and miserable, and as he turned away to head back into the apartment, clearly not caring if she was following or not, he banged into the sofa. 

“Dammit.” Hissed under his breath.

Rachel shut the door. This was going to take a while.

“Coffee?” Raylan was moving towards the open plan kitchen and for a moment Rachel almost leapt across the room to make it herself. Scared that he might hurt himself, because she had never seen him bang into the furniture like that. She stopped herself, because if Raylan thought she was pitying him or trying to baby him, he would definitely push her out.

“Yes, please.” She kept her voice calm and level, even a little disinterested. Otis lumbered over to see her, and Rachel turned her attention to the Labrador. Nearly a month since the incident and the cuts and grazes had healed, but it didn’t take a genius to see that the dog was as unhappy as his master apparently was.

_Well shit._

She rubbed Otis’ ears, and the chocolate tail thumped, half-speed. Sad brown eyes looked hopefully up at her as though Rachel could fix what ailed them both. She rubbed his head. “I hope I can, boy.” She whispered, the dog’s head pushed into her hands again, and he leaned heavily against her.

Raylan returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. He hadn’t lost all of his skills she noted as he put a mug in front of her on the coffee table. He had found a wife beater and a shirt from somewhere, the shirt miss-buttoned and the tee clearly grubby. She looked at his unshaven jaw, and his hair even more in need of a good cut than ever. His whole demeanor screamed distress.

He was papering over the cracks, exactly as Tim was, and she really couldn’t bear to see them so unhappy.

“So you moved out.”

Raylan’s jaw clenched. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”

“Never said you did.” So that was the crux of the problem.

“If he can’t accept that it happened, and I’m fine, then we’re better off alone.”

Stubbornness in every inch of his body, but Rachel wasn’t buying that for a minute.

She put her hand on his arm.

“I don’t need a nursemaid.” He gritted out between clenched teeth, as if trying to convince himself.

He was actually shivering, and Rachel gently closed her fingers around his wrist. “No one is saying you do, Raylan.”

“I need to handle this. If he can’t accept that, then we’re better off this way.” He said. She might even have believed it if she hadn’t seen the shock and grief on Raylan’s face, the mirror image of Tim’s. “He’s treating me…”

“Like you’re made of glass.” Raylan was blind, that hadn’t put a dent in his pride. “So you fought.”

He nodded.

“My mamma used to say, never let the sun set on your anger.” She squeezed a little, “I’m guessing you’ve let more than a sun set on it.”

Raylan just looked miserable. “Yeah.” So quiet she could barely hear it. 

“Tim’s miserable too.” 

“He knows where I am.”

As if this was ever going to be easy. Rachel picked up her mug, and turned the conversation to other subjects, she could see that she had given Raylan more than enough to think about.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canine intervention and coffee is a great healer.

Otis reached the end of the sidewalk and paused, his body pressing against Raylan’s knee. Master wanted to go left, well Otis wasn’t turning left anymore, so he circled, guiding Master in the direction that he wanted to go. Familiar sidewalks, familiar shops, and the delicious scents of his favourite place, Otis picked up the pace a little.

It hadn’t taken Raylan long to figure out that his guide dog was not so much guiding him as dragging him, and he had an idea where. Pride was battling loneliness and sorrow, and pride was losing. Rachel was right, Raylan had chucked away the one thing in his life that made sense, that comforted him. He hated his blindness, hated that this was one more thing that his father had taken from him. Tim’s panicked response to what had happened with his father had seemed like smothering, so Raylan had panicked, and the thing that meant the most to Raylan had fallen victim to the meanness and cruelty that was Arlo Givens.

Tim’s uncharacteristic panic.

Raylan had believed that the one response he would never get from the laconic sniper would be panic. He felt smothered and lashed back in his own panic. They’d fought viciously, and it had been Raylan who’d stormed out and found himself an apartment. He’d had four weeks of utterly miserable loneliness to realize the truth, and now he didn’t know how to fix it. Rachel was his lifeline. What was left of Raylan’s pride didn’t want to admit the truth, but the loneliness and fear was begging that he hadn’t screwed it all up, that he could have it back again.

He loved Tim Gutterson. And he didn’t know what the hell he could do about it.

Otis stopped dead, and Raylan almost tripped, his hand went out to brace himself, felt the door handle with its coffee bean design and knew instantly where he was, despite Otis’ bizarre left-turn issues. Then the door handle was practically wrenched out of his hand as Otis barreled through.

Raylan could feel Otis’ tail wagging harder than it had in the last five weeks. The dog was bouncing on the spot.

“Raylan.”

“Marla.” She was one of the older waitresses, when he first virtually blundered into the place on his debut trip into town after losing his sight, Marla had been the one to help him out, with the least fuss. Called Tim at the Marshals’ Office, looked after Raylan until Tim could get there. When Raylan started turning up with Otis, there was always a doggie Danish for the dog.

“It’s been a long time, honey.” Marla put her hand on his elbow to guide him to a table. She must have seen something in his face then, because she patted his arm in a gentle, motherly sort of way, “the usual hon?”

Feeling suddenly too full to speak, Raylan nodded. “I’ve a nice piece of peach cobbler with your name on it.”

He tried to clear his throat, but the boulder that had taken up residence there refused to move, so he nodded again. Marla seemed to understand without the need for lengthy explanation, and with another gentle pat to his arm, left him to get the coffee and food.

Raylan took off his hat, and Otis settled against him, heavy warm weight against his leg, head in Raylan’s lap. Raylan’s hand rubbed the velvety ears eliciting a grunt that sounded very like a sigh.

“Yeah, I know.” Raylan’s voice really didn’t sound like his own, so he shut up. It seemed better that way. His hand kept rubbing the labrador’s soft head and neck, contact calming him, not quite the way it did with Tim, but close.

He heard the door open again, tramp of boots, as someone wiped their feet, “my treat,” said a voice, and Raylan nearly jumped out of his skin. Then Otis was barreling past his legs, and Raylan could hear the skitter of claws, and a choked voice said “Boy!” and he half-stood, then sat down again.

“Ray.” A hand was laid gently on his shoulder, a world of choked up emotion in his name. And he wanted to give in so badly.

Tim looked down at his friend, noting the bruises, two on his left cheekbone, one recent, the other almost faded to nothing. Raylan had lost weight that he didn’t have to lose, instead of his usual tight, almost furious expression was something so pinched with loss it made Tim want to cry.

Marla was approaching with Raylan’s order, and Tim took it from her, asked for a coffee and another piece of that pie because it looked so good. Put the coffee and pie down in front of Raylan. “Coffee’s on the left, pie’s on the right.” Knowing that smothering would drive Raylan away, controlling the urge to just pull the cowboy into his arms and never let him out of his sight again.

He looked round, and Rachel had taken the opportunity to make herself scarce. Tim could smell a plot, but since it brought him sight of the man he realised he loved, he guessed he was okay with it.

Otis’ tail was beating double-time. His heavy body leaning up against Tim and Raylan’s legs under the table.

Tim watched Raylan’s hand go for the fork, hesitation in his movements that Tim hadn’t seen since Raylan was first blinded. His fingers itched to reach across the table and clasp Raylan’s hand.

“Ray.”

“I’ve missed you.” The words were rushed, a little breathy, practically falling over themselves, as though Raylan were determined to say them before his courage failed.

It hurt, the deep ache inside Tim’s soul realizing that this was what he had brought his friend to; because Raylan’s courage, regardless of misplaced circumstances, never failed.

“Come home.”

Two words, probably the most important, and most mundane, of Tim’s life. Literally everything hung in the balance for Raylan’s answer. He watched the emotions chase themselves across Raylan’s face, hurt, fear, loss, but he could see hope flicker the longest.

“Yes.” It was so quiet that if Tim hadn’t been hanging on that word he might have missed it. Raylan’s hand reached out, his fingers entwined with Tim’s and it was all that Tim could do _not_ to drag Raylan into his arms and never let go.

Since that was pretty much what had torn them apart in the first place, Tim supposed he was going to have to relearn some things along the way.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and the psychiatrist

Mandatory after-shooting-suspect appointment with the department sanctioned shrink, normally Tim would be dragging his feet and trying to think of a way out of it. This time he had a question. Well, more a series of questions, and not all of them were human.

Raylan was back with Tim again. Tim was playing it very carefully, if Raylan made a move, Tim reciprocated and that was working just fine. He had mastered the art of not-smothering. Raylan wasn’t banging into things, he was cheerfully testing the boundaries of his sense-deprived situation, and all was sort of alright with the world again.

Kinda.

Raylan would come to bed every night, find Tim’s wrist with his hand, exactly like they had been sleeping for the almost three years since Tim first took Raylan home with him. Everything normal. Yeah right. That did not explain Tim waking with Raylan wrapped around him like an octopus. Arms tight around Tim’s body, face buried in Tim’s neck, the legs seemed optional, but more often than not Tim would find his legs pinned to the mattress by a lean, muscular thigh.

And Otis wouldn’t turn left.

So Tim had questions. The domestic questions concerned him, the shooting thing, not so much. It was his job, he didn’t need to rationalize it, he just needed to do it. The far more important situation was his partner and his partner’s guide dog.

She was nice enough, Dr Sanders. In her fifties, with a settled, calm but not overly condescending manner which Tim appreciated. Not that he was going to unload any of his own dark secrets, but he still felt a tiny twinge of guilt at off-loading Raylan’s.

They were clearly going to begin in the same place that they always did, but Tim came up with a pre-emptive strike. “Doc,” he said, “We always do this, and you know what I am going to say, and I promise you that this is absolutely no different from every other time I’ve been here. So can we talk about something else?”

Marilyn Sanders laid down her pen, and fixed him with that look which made people believe her whole attention was on them. Tim secretly wondered if she sang songs in her head while listening to the boring stuff, but this time he actually wanted her to listen.

“You know I have a partner?”

Dr Sanders glanced down at the file in front of her, there was some sort of note to that effect, but the notation was vague on detail. “Yes. Is there some sort of difficulty at home, Tim?”

“Not so much, we’re talking, more than we used to, we’re sharing the bed again… it’s just…” Tim came to a halt, as he tried to find the right words to describe the problem without sounding like an idiot.

Marilyn smiled, nervous and tongue tied she could deal with. “What’s your partner’s name?”

“Raylan Givens.”

The name didn’t register, and Tim remembered that Dr Sanders was a new hire after Raylan lost his sight. 

“Long story short, Doc. We’ve been living together for nearly three years…” Tim shifted uncomfortably as he related the circumstances of their fight, the break up, the make up “and suddenly Raylan, who has a PhD in emotional unavailability,” Tim’s voice almost cracked on the irony, “suddenly every night he’s clinging to me like a vine. It’s not Raylan, not his thing.” Tim’s jaw ached and what felt like the beginnings of a tension headache was knotting itself somewhere behind his eyes. Stress, he supposed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked this much about anything this personal. “And Otis won’t turn left.” He tacked on as an after-thought.

She looked startled at that. “Who is Otis?”

“Otis is Raylan’s guide dog.” Tim frowned a little, “Raylan’s blind.”

“Go on.”

Tim shifted in his seat, this part was not really his story to tell, but the doctor had this look in her eyes…

So he told.

[][][][][][][][]

Hypnosis. That was what Tim was going to put it down to. 

After spilling his guts to the psychiatrist in a completely uncharacteristic manner, he’d made a second appointment, a promise to bring Raylan… and Raylan’s dog… with him next time.

Once outside in the car, Tim had a moment’s panic, the kind of panic that sent two fingers reaching for the pulse point in his neck as he tried to calm himself and just breathe.

Taking a shot. No problem. Talking about feelings… worse still getting Raylan to talk about feelings… and Otis’ inability/unwillingness to even contemplate turning left. Tim checked in the driver’s mirror, okay the scream was coming from his brain and not his lips.

At least Otis’ bizarre problem was something that he and Raylan could talk about. Tim had suggested that they contact the guide dog school. Raylan panicked and begged Tim not to.

In as far as Raylan Givens was capable of panicking over anything.

Given how fiercely attached Raylan was to his dog, that wasn’t a shock. Raylan and Otis’ trainer, Cally, had wanted to scrub Otis out of the programme, and that had upset Raylan a lot. Now he had been living with Otis for nearly a full year, Tim knew that separating Otis from Raylan would break the cowboy’s heart. 

So, no pressure then.

Tim just needed to figure out how he was going to get Raylan to agree to come along.

**Author's Note:**

> Intended as a one shot, although there are notes for more. Which I will write if folk want to know more.


End file.
